


Dragon's Bane

by Aini_NuFire



Series: Musketeer Dragon Riders [13]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Dragons, Dragon Riders, Gen, Hurt Aramis, Hurt/Comfort, d'Artagnan in peril, hurt Rhaego
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-03-07
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:27:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22955617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aini_NuFire/pseuds/Aini_NuFire
Summary: The musketeers are sent to deal with a wild dragon attacking villages, but they find something more sinister at work—something that puts their own dragons at risk.
Series: Musketeer Dragon Riders [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1564573
Comments: 28
Kudos: 71





	1. Chapter 1

Pine needles crunched underfoot as a lone figure picked his way through the forest. Splintered tree branches gave him his first sign of his quarry, confirmed later by scorch marks on some exposed boulders under the midday sun. He trudged further into the mountains until he finally came upon what he sought—a dragon's cave. Gouges in the soil from claws were fresh, and he could hear the beast scuffing around in its den.

He stepped from the cover of the foliage and approached the cave. Amber eyes immediately flashed his way. He froze where he stood, letting the dragon emerge. It crept out, neck arched defensively, its wingspan spreading just enough to guard the cave entrance.

He slowly pulled a metal disc from his pocket and angled it to catch the sun's rays. Reflected light went dancing across the dragon's eyes, then to the ground, swishing back and forth steadily. The dragon narrowed its eyes on the light, head hunching lower. He kept the rhythm up and slowly reached with his other hand into another pouch on his belt. The dragon remained captivated by the glinting light.

He took a step forward. The dragon whipped its head toward him, and he threw the fistful of powder into its face. The beast sneezed and reared back, shaking its head vigorously. The man backed up several paces and watched as the dragon suddenly threw its head back with an ear-splitting shriek. Its eyes dilated and turned red, and it screeched again.

He ducked back behind some bushes and kept still so as not to draw its attention. The dragon thrashed in place for several seconds before snapping its wings taut and launching into the sky. With another raging roar, it flew toward the open countryside of France and its exposed villages.

.o.0.o.

D'Artagnan slogged into the garrison after a long afternoon of guard duty at the palace. Standing at attention while the King amused himself with croquet was one of the less glamorous aspects of being a musketeer, but someone had to do it.

"D'Artagnan!"

He perked up at the sight of Porthos waving him over to the table under the captain's balcony. Now that he was a musketeer but not yet a dragon rider, half of his duties took him away from his friends and the types of missions they were usually assigned, and he missed their company.

"Come have a drink with us," Aramis invited. "Unless you'd rather run home to your wife."

D'Artagnan smirked at his cheeky grin and took a seat next to Athos, who wordlessly poured him a cup of wine. Porthos had a plate of bread and cheese in front of him, and Aramis was cleaning his pistol. The four of them sat in companionable silence, and d'Artagnan exhaled contentedly. He had almost everything he wanted. All that was left to completely fulfill his dreams was to become a dragon rider.

Aramis set his pistol down and picked up the other, which looked like it had already been shined and polished.

"How many times have you cleaned those pistols tonight?" d'Artagnan asked.

"Respect your weapon, and it'll respect you," Aramis replied. "Another thing you need to learn if you want to be a good musketeer."

D'Artagnan rolled his eyes. "All right, just so I know, this whole 'd'Artagnan the apprentice musketeer' thing—how long does it last?"

Aramis grinned. "Well, as long as it's funny."

D'Artagnan huffed and Porthos chuckled. Athos, if he found it amusing, hid his reaction in his cup. D'Artagnan just shook his head.

The captain came striding through the archway and immediately adjusted his path toward them. "You three. You have a mission."

Athos straightened. "What is it?"

"The King has received reports of a wild dragon ravaging one of the southern provinces. He wants his dragon riders to deal with it."

D'Artagnan watched his friends exchange a look at that, and he couldn't help but feel a flicker of disappointment that he wouldn't be going with them. He'd gotten used to accompanying them on missions, even though he didn't have his own dragon. And dealing with a wild dragon sounded interesting.

"Permission for d'Artagnan to accompany us," Athos said so mildly that it took d'Artagnan an extra beat to register the words.

"He's not a dragon rider," Treville pointed out with only a trace of impatience. He'd been rather gracious letting d'Artagnan tag along with his men before he'd gained his commission, but now d'Artagnan was one of his men under his command and there were protocols to follow.

"He has experience facing wild dragons," Porthos put in. "Could be of use."

D'Artagnan fought to keep his expression from looking pathetically hopeful as he fidgeted slightly in his seat.

Treville shook his head. "Fine," he relented. "You can leave in the morning."

With that, he marched past them and up the stairs to his office.

D'Artagnan couldn't contain his excitement anymore and shot Athos a beaming grin of gratitude. But then he had a moment to fully consider what their mission was, and his smile slipped. "It's unusual for dragons to attack villages, isn't it?" At least, he'd never heard of it happening in his lifetime.

"It's more common for dragons to cull from livestock," Athos said. "But attacking whole towns, no, that doesn't happen as often."

"What exactly does 'deal with it' mean, anyway?" d'Artagnan asked nervously.

Aramis's expression was grim as he answered, "We protect the people of France by whatever means necessary."

D'Artagnan swallowed hard. He suddenly wasn't sure how he felt about being included on this mission. The idea of maybe having to kill a dragon didn't sit well with him, not when he knew how intelligent and loyal they could be.

"We'll try using our dragons to claim the territory and scare the wild beast off," Athos spoke up again. "But if that doesn't work, we do need to come prepared." He stood and beckoned for d'Artagnan to follow, leading him toward the armory.

Inside, he went to the rack of acimite swords. "We need to inspect these, make sure there's no grievous flaws that will fail us when it counts," Athos explained.

D'Artagnan hesitantly picked up one of the obsidian blades and began to carefully go over it. It looked fine, so he set it aside and grabbed another. The second had a small crack in the tip he recognized. "You said this still had some use left," he said, holding the item out to Athos. "Should I use it again?"

Athos turned to scrutinize the blade, then nodded. "The fracture hasn't worsened since then. Sometimes the material can degrade if it's deep enough. But remember that if does come to it, you have to make your strike count."

D'Artagnan nodded gravely and sought out a scabbard for the sword.

Athos walked over to a shelf and picked up a wooden box that he then set on the work table in the middle of the room. Inside were a bunch of onyx musket balls.

"These are backup," Athos said. "But unlike regular musket balls, these can harm our dragons, so be aware of them and their movements when taking aim."

D'Artagnan nodded again and helped Athos make up some reloading packets for the four of them.

"Thank you for the opportunity to join you on a mission again," d'Artagnan said when they were done.

"We work well together," Athos said without inflection. "I'll finish up here. You should get home to your wife."

D'Artagnan smiled, understanding the sentiment the older musketeer usually kept devoid in his tone. With a nod, he headed out into the night. He had a loving wife to go home to and a mission with his best friends on the morrow. Life was good.

.o.0.o.

The next morning, the musketeers arrived at one of the villages that had recently been attacked. From the air, Porthos could see three structures that were scorch marked, another that was completely obliterated, and another that was half in ruins. Peasants were milling about with reconstruction efforts but scattered when the Musketeer dragons touched down at the edge of their village. Given what they'd just been through, Porthos didn't blame them.

The musketeers dismounted and gestured for their dragons to hang back as they entered the village.

"We are King's Musketeers," Athos announced.

One gangly fellow peeked around the corner of a house. "You come about the dragon?" he asked hesitantly.

Athos nodded. "What can you tell us?"

The villager inched out to meet them. "It came out o' nowhere. Crashed into a house right o'er there and ripped it apart. No warning." He pointed to one of the ruined buildings. "Then it set fire to another."

"What color was the dragon?" Aramis asked next.

The villager grimaced. "Don' know. When it came down…it was terrifying. Everyone was jus' trying to escape." He pursed his lips and looked over their shoulders at the Musketeer dragons. "Not like any o' them though."

"We understand you're the third village to be attacked," Athos said. "Does anyone know which direction the dragon came from or flew away to?"

The man pointed to the mountains east of the village. "You going to hunt it down?"

"That's the plan," Athos replied and turned away so the four of them could confer.

"That doesn't sound like an animal comin' down from the mountains for food," Porthos said.

"Agreed," Athos commented. "We should see if we can get the creature's scent to track it."

Aramis nodded and called Rhaego over. The two of them moved toward the house the dragon had reportedly stomped through.

"Are we still going to try scaring the dragon off?" d'Artagnan asked. "If it's not attacking the same village twice, how are we supposed to 'claim the territory'?"

"If it's behaving this way because it's somehow diseased," Athos answered, "it could be a danger no matter where it goes. We need to prepare ourselves to take more permanent action."

D'Artagnan looked as grim as Porthos felt. Hunting dragons was no easy feat, even when they had three of their own.

"Rhaego?" Aramis's voice carried from across the road, tone pitched high with a note of uncertainty.

Porthos turned and saw the russet dragon shaking his head vigorously as though trying to dislodge something. Then he swung his neck up and around and belted out a piercing screech.

"Rhaego!" Aramis exclaimed in alarm.

The dragon whipped his head toward his rider, eyes blazing an unnatural blood-red. With another roar, he lunged, swiping out with his talons. Aramis backpedaled in surprise but not fast enough to avoid those claws catching him across the chest. Porthos's heart seized and he surged forward just as Savron and Vrita did. The other two dragons charged the younger, bellowing out challenging roars. Rhaego reeled back and screeched at them in return, snapping his jaws at them. They planted themselves firmly between Rhaego and Aramis, though it was clear they didn't know why their youngest had suddenly turned on them.

The villagers were running and screaming at the ruckus, drawing Rhaego's gaze like a predator toward prey. Porthos shouted at him, drawing his attention away from the peasants. Behind him, Athos and d'Artagnan were grabbing Aramis under the arms and dragging him a safer distance away. Rhaego caught that movement and snarled at them, and Savron darted in to block the younger dragon's view of them. Rhaego lunged and snapped his teeth at Vrita, who had gotten too close.

Porthos could only watch in horror. This wasn't the petulant tantrum he was used to tolerating from the impish dragon; no, Rhaego was spitting with pure, unadulterated rage. His pupils were dilated and the irises a ring of crimson around opaque black orbs. Porthos had no idea what was happening, but he knew he had to do something. He drew his fossilized dragon claw.

Savron and Vrita were trying to keep Rhaego hemmed in, but the young dragon kept lashing out with his teeth and claws.

"Damn it, Rhaego, don' make us hurt you!" Porthos growled.

Rhaego spat at them again and his belly started to glow.

"Shit." Porthos scrambled to grab a fistful of refroidi from his pouch. The glow was intensifying and Rhaego opened his maw wide. Porthos darted forward and tossed the refroidi into his mouth then dove out of the way.

Rhaego choked and gagged as his fire was quenched, but that only seemed to drive him madder as he started thrashing back and forth, crashing into the ruins and scattering rubble. Savron and Vrita leaped after him, aiming to bring him down and pin him, but whereas they were trying not to use their claws and teeth, Rhaego was lashing out viciously. His teeth latched around Savron's foreleg and his talons scored three slashes across Vrita's hide.

Porthos clenched his fossilized claw in his hand, wanting to help but knowing better than to jump into that fray.

The dragons rolled in a spitting, biting morass of gnashing teeth and gouging claws.

"Porthos!" d'Artagnan shouted, running over with some rope. He threw a helpless look at the dragons.

Porthos snatched the rope and quickly fashioned a lasso. He twirled it above his head, waiting for an opening between the fighting dragons. When he found it, he threw the loop over Rhaego's head. The dragon nearly yanked Porthos off his feet with his brute strength, but Savron and Vrita were finally gaining the upper hand. Savron grabbed the back of Rhaego's neck near his ears and wrenched his head to the ground. Vrita slammed herself on top of him, using her bulk to pin him down.

Porthos steeled himself and darted in, winding the rope around Rhaego's snout over and over until his jaw was clamped closed. Rhaego bucked and wriggled, foaming at the mouth. Porthos dropped his fossilized claw and drew his sword instead, then slammed the pommel into Rhaego's temple, twice. The dragon finally went limp, but Savron and Vrita didn't dare let up.

Porthos straightened, chest heaving from adrenaline. He met d'Artagnan's stupefied gaze. Porthos had no words; he simply dropped his blade and rushed toward where Athos was kneeling over Aramis. The marksman looked like he was trying to get up, but Athos was pushing Aramis's sash down against his shoulder, the blue fabric already dark with saturated blood.

"Rhaego," Aramis choked, glazed eyes searching for his dragon.

"Lie still," Athos ordered.

Porthos reached them and dropped down on Aramis's other side. Athos briefly lifted the makeshift compress and Porthos's stomach turned at the long, jagged slash across Aramis's shoulder and collar bone. A shorter gash was just beneath it from the tip of a second claw. Blood had spilled all down his coat and was continuing to flow. Athos quickly pressed down again in an attempt to staunch it. Aramis let out a choking sound and tried to arch away, but Athos held him in place.

"Rhaego," he pleaded again.

"He's secure," Porthos gritted out. For the moment, and that was really all he could say on the matter. He glanced at Athos and found the same shaken look mirrored in his eyes.

"We need to get him inside," the swordsman said.

"I'll find help," d'Artagnan said and dashed off.

Porthos threw a look over his shoulder at the dragons, Savron and Vrita still positioned preemptively over Rhaego's limp body. "What the hell happened?" he murmured.

Athos didn't respond, just kept his attention on Aramis who was slipping into shock and slowly bleeding out beneath them.


	2. Chapter 2

Athos pressed harder against the bleeding wounds, earning a muffled moan in return. Aramis's eyes were half lidded now, his head lolling limply on the grass that was slick with blood beneath him.

"Stay awake, Aramis," he barked. Keeping one hand on the compress, Athos moved the other to tap the marksman's cheek urgently.

Aramis's head rolled the other direction and his eyelids fluttered with a valiant attempt, but the shock of his injury and the blood loss were proving to be too much.

"Aramis!" Porthos called desperately.

Harried footsteps had Athos looking up as d'Artagnan jogged back over with a stretcher and another man in tow.

"This is Doctor Nouwen. He came from the next county over after the initial dragon attack," d'Artagnan explained as he set the litter on the ground. "The villagers said we could use a room at the inn."

"Tie that sash around his shoulder as tightly as possible," Nouwen said without preamble. "He bleeds too much."

Athos already knew he was _bleeding too much_ , but he wordlessly removed the sash from the ugly wounds and Porthos lifted Aramis enough for Athos to get the piece of fabric under him. Aramis's eyes were closed now and he didn't react to Athos tightening the sash over the gouges. With that done, they transferred him to the stretcher and hefted it off the ground, then followed Nouwen into the village, giving the dragons a wide berth as they passed.

The inn was apparently already housing a few wounded villagers whose homes had been destroyed, but there was still a room available, which the innkeeper directed them to.

"Table first," Nouwen instructed. "I need space to work. Clear the room please."

There were quite a few villagers huddled in the taproom, but they began to congregate on the opposite end as far out of the way as possible at the physician's request. The innkeeper rushed to clear the wooden table of some cups and dishes so Athos and Porthos could set the stretcher on it.

"I need water and wine. My tools are in the other room still."

Someone darted off, presumably to retrieve the requested items. Doctor Nouwen bent over his patient, measuring his vitals before reaching to undo the sash. It was difficult to tell with how saturated Aramis's clothes already were but it appeared as though the bleeding had slowed.

"Help me get these off," Nouwen said to no musketeer in particular, gesturing to the coat and shirt. Porthos immediately stepped in to help.

Athos turned to the innkeeper. "Do you have a barn free of livestock?"

"Um, there's a donkey in it," the man replied.

"If you could move it somewhere else for the time being, we have need of a place to house our dragons."

The man's throat bobbed nervously, but since the alternative was to leave the dragons out in the open where the terrified villagers could see them, he resorted to nodding numbly. "I'll show you."

"D'Artagnan," Athos called.

The young Gascon cast an uncertain look between him and Aramis.

"We'd just be in the way right now," Athos pointed out. "And we need to secure Rhaego before he wakes." And resumed his murderous rage.

D'Artagnan's mouth thinned but he nodded, and the two of them followed the innkeeper back outside. Rhaego was still knocked out, thankfully.

"Do you have extra rope or chains?" Athos asked the villager.

"I could probably scrounge some up…"

"Please do so," Athos replied tersely.

The man bobbed his head nervously and darted into the barn, emerging a few moments later with a donkey. The poor animal turned skittish at the sight of the dragons, and the innkeeper had to take it around the back of the barn. Athos approached the dragons, eyeing the sluggishly oozing wounds on Savron's leg and hide. Vrita and Rhaego were in much the same condition.

"I don't understand what happened," d'Artagnan said.

Neither did Athos. Was it some kind of disease? But a disease wouldn't manifest that instantaneously. It had affected Rhaego but not Savron or Vrita. Athos walked over to the area where Rhaego had been standing when he'd snapped. Roving his gaze over the ground, he paused at the sight of some black powder on the ground. At first glance, it looked like soot but was a touch too glittery for that. Athos knelt down and rubbed his fingers in it. Lifting his hand to his nose, he took a tentative sniff. It wasn't soot, or gunpowder.

"What is it?" d'Artagnan asked.

"I don't know."

He stood again as the innkeeper and two other men returned with some ropes and chains. They deposited the items several yards away, too frightened to approach the dragons. Athos and d'Artagnan retrieved them and then proceeded to bind Rhaego more securely. They used the chains to hogtie the dragon's legs together and the rope to bind his wings. It was cruel but necessary since they had no idea what mental state he would be in when he woke. Athos checked the rope around his snout to make sure it was secure and left it in place. Then with Savron's and Vrita's help, they hauled the russet dragon into the barn.

"What are we going to do if he…" d'Artagnan trailed off with a helpless look at Rhaego.

"One problem at a time," Athos replied.

He turned his attention to Savron's and Vrita's wounds. Normally Aramis was the one who patched up the dragons, but it was a simple enough matter to apply some salve to the gouges. There was little else to do for them. None of the wounds were too deep, and Savron could still bear weight on his injured leg.

When they'd done all they could, Athos and d'Artagnan returned to the inn. Doctor Nouwen was just finishing up the last of the stitches when they entered the taproom. Aramis was still unconscious and extremely pale on the table, his blood-tattered coat and shirt piled on the floor.

"How is he?" Athos asked.

"He's lost quite a bit of blood," the physician replied. "But as long as infection doesn't set in, there's no reason he shouldn't make a full recovery."

Porthos stood on the other side of the table, arms crossed and expression pinched with worry. Nouwen finished off the last suture and asked him to prop Aramis up so he could wind the bandages around his shoulder and chest.

"We can move him to a room now."

Porthos lifted Aramis into his arms and carried him into the room the physician led them to. Athos and d'Artagnan followed.

"I can stay on for a few days, monitor him," Nouwen added as Porthos settled Aramis on the bed.

Athos inclined his head in thanks, and the doctor excused himself to go check on some of his other patients.

Porthos grabbed the blanket off the other bed in the room and gingerly tucked it around Aramis. "Rhaego?" he asked tensely.

"As secure as possible," Athos replied.

"That wasn't 'im," Porthos went on. "Rhaego would never hurt Aramis."

Athos knew that. The dragon was many things, but he was loyal to Aramis above all.

"I found traces of a strange powder where he'd been trying to pick up a scent. It could be a drug."

"A drug that turns dragons into raging beasts?" d'Artagnan asked dubiously.

"We should consult with an alchemist," Athos said. "We'll have to see if the village has horses we can borrow. I'd rather leave Savron and Vrita with Rhaego just in case."

Porthos nodded. "I'll stay wit' Aramis."

As if that was ever in question. Athos moved to the side of the bed and reached under the blanket to grip Aramis's wrist, folding his fingers over the pulse point simply to assure himself before leaving. Then he cocked his head for d'Artagnan to follow him out.

"Does anyone know where the nearest alchemist is?" Athos asked the crowded room.

"There's one in Le Blanc," someone spoke up.

"We could use two horses if you have any," Athos continued. "The sooner we can get to the bottom of this, the sooner we can put a stop to the dragon attacks."

"Yer gonna leave those dragons in the barn?" another person blurted. "They'll devour us all!"

"They're not mindless beasts!" d'Artagnan put in passionately. "And their presence will deter any other dragon attacks."

The villagers exchanged nervous looks but didn't argue further.

"You can use my horse," Nouwen said, stepping out from another room.

"An' we have another," the innkeeper spoke up. "I'll get 'em ready."

Athos nodded and then headed outside to gather up as much of the strange powder as he could, scooping it into a powder packet after having dumped the contents. When the horses were saddled and ready, he and d'Artagnan mounted up and rode out of the village.

They reached Le Blanc in half an hour and asked the first person they saw where to find the resident alchemist. His shop was located in the middle of the market, a small room with shelves packed with bottles and vials of various compounds. Alchemists often doubled as apothecaries.

"How may I help you gentlemen?" an older fellow addressed them, coming out from the back work room.

"Do you recognize this compound?" Athos asked, setting the packet on the counter.

The shop owner quirked a wary look at him before undoing the knot cord. He sniffed the contents first, then dabbed his pinky finger inside. His brows rose. "Where did you get this?"

"You heard of the dragon attacks in this province?" Athos said instead.

The alchemist's eyes widened further and he looked back at the black powder. "It's called dragon's bane. It's a nasty compound that drives dragons mad."

"Then it doesn't occur naturally?"

The man's expression hardened. "No." Likely his thoughts were mirroring Athos's—it seemed someone had poisoned a dragon, but why? Unless they wanted to aggravate it into a wild frenzy so it would attack defenseless villages.

"Is there an antidote?" Athos asked.

"No, but the effects are not permanent."

Athos felt d'Artagnan's sigh of relief next to him; that was good news for Rhaego. And perhaps for the dragon behind the attacks. Unless whoever was behind it kept poisoning the creature, or multiple ones.

"Do you sell this here?" Athos asked next.

The shop owner drew his shoulders back. "I do not. It's a device from war times. No respectable alchemist would compile it now."

"Then who in this region is not respectable?"

The man narrowed his eyes. "None I know of, I can assure you."

Athos ignored his defensiveness and took the packet back. "Thank you for your time." He turned on his heel and left.

"So we have to find whoever's behind this to stop the attacks," d'Artagnan surmised as he caught up. "But how are we going to do that? If trying to catch his scent is how Rhaego was poisoned, we can't rely on tracking."

"Rhaego's senses are more keen than most dragons," Athos replied. "That might be why he reacted to such a small amount."

Still, he didn't want to risk Savron and Vrita being contaminated. Which left them with a very real problem. If they had to resort to a visual grid search of the mountains, they could use more dragon riders, yet at the same time, the more dragons in the area, the greater risk another episode like with Rhaego could be triggered.

"We have to do _something_ ," d'Artagnan insisted.

Athos huffed at the boy's impatience. "We will when we figure out what that something is," he rejoined. But without any leads on where the supply of this alchemical compound was from or who was using it—

A screech resounded from the sky and Athos whipped his head up to see a dragon swooping down toward the town. Its belly glowed with fulvous cracks as it prepared to unleash a geyser of fire.

Athos pulled out his pistol, already loaded with an acimite musket ball, and fired. D'Artagnan scrambled to do the same. The dragon banked abruptly with a shriek; at least one must have hit its mark.

But apparently not enough to significantly wound it. The dragon veered around and let out a bone-rattling roar as it headed directly for them.

"Take cover!" Athos shouted and scrambled for a gap between two buildings. D'Artagnan crashed into him, a gust of air in the dragon's wake buffeting their backs. Athos grabbed a powder packet and ripped it open, hastily reloading his weapon. D'Artagnan was a tad slower, and Athos strode out from the alley.

The dragon had landed down the street and was whirling back and forth, smashing through market stalls and sending splintering wood through the air. People were running and screaming. The dragon bent low and belched out a stream of fire at their retreating backs. Athos aimed his pistol and fired again.

The dragon flinched and jerked its head toward him, eyes blazing red. With a roar, it started a lumbering charge toward his position. There was no time to reload, so Athos dove out of the way. He heard d'Artagnan yell his name and the sound of a pistol shot. The dragon clambered past him. Then there was a cry. Athos rolled over in time to see the dragon leap into the air, d'Artagnan snatched up in its claws.

Athos scrambled to his feet and frantically stuffed a packet of gunpowder and an acimite ball into his pistol. But by the time he had it loaded and aimed, the dragon was already too high; even if Athos did manage to hit it severely enough to bring it down or get it to drop d'Artagnan, the fall would kill him.

"D'Artagnan!" Athos yelled, unable to do anything as the dragon angled its trajectory back toward the mountains with its prey clutched tightly in its talons.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know you've all been wondering about d'Artagnan's future dragon...here's your answer. ;)

D'Artagnan's heart was in his throat as he dipped and lurched over the countryside, dangling from the dragon's claws. He instinctively twisted and writhed in the beast's grip, even though wriggling free would mean plummeting to his death far below. The mountains and forest loomed ahead, and d'Artagnan braced himself as he skimmed dangerously close to the tree tops. There was a small clearing at the base of a rocky outcropping where the dragon abruptly opened its talons, releasing its catch.

D'Artagnan cried out in surprise as he dropped to the ground, barely rolling into a crouch in time to avoid serious injury. He whipped out his acimite blade as the dragon landed with a dull reverberation and spun around to roar at him. D'Artagnan scrambled back automatically and the dragon surged forward, snapping its jaws at the air where he'd been. He swiped his sword in response, only remembering at the last minute that he shouldn't have done that. The tip of the blade caught the dragon across the face, but the impact caused the fracture to bend past its breaking point, and the top few centimeters of the sword snapped off. The dragon reared back with an ear-splitting screech.

D'Artagnan staggered backward again, heart hammering in his chest. The blade was still usable, but he had to be careful and make his next strike count.

Though, now that he was facing an enraged dragon, he wasn't sure how he was supposed to do that when every move was defend himself or die.

The dragon snarled viciously, blood flying in flecks from its split cheek. It lunged again and d'Artagnan darted to the side. The dragon whirled, its tail lashing out and knocking d'Artagnan's legs out from under him. He hit the ground and rolled, yet somehow kept a grip on his sword. The dragon shrieked again, and d'Artagnan twisted out of the way before that powerful jaw snapped over his head.

Scrambling to his feet, d'Artagnan let out a desperate battle cry and surged upward, aiming for the dragon's chest. The acimite's broken tip pierced its hide and went deep. The blade snapped from the hilt. With a screech, the dragon flung itself backward, then fell onto its side. D'Artagnan tripped and fell back as well, blood roaring in his ears.

The dragon twitched and jerked before letting out a long exhalation and falling still. D'Artagnan stared at it for several long moments, chest heaving from exertion and terror. But the dragon didn't move. Blood streamed out of its wound and shards of onyx glinted from within.

D'Artagnan dropped his head back against the ground and closed his eyes, waiting for his breathing to return to a semblance of normalcy. After a few moments, he forced himself to move, pushing himself upright and then onto his knees. Black powder glittered on the ground around him. He frowned, heart clenching with anger and grief. This didn't have to happen; he wouldn't have had to kill that dragon if someone hadn't poisoned it.

He forced himself to stand and began to look around. Maybe he could find a clue as to who was behind all this. There wasn't much, though. D'Artagnan slowly made a circuit of the clearing, passing by a cave opening that must have been the dragon's den. He cautiously crept inside, just to have a look. There was a bed of dried leaves, some large animal bones that had been picked clean. D'Artagnan turned to leave when his eyes landed on something oval shaped and sparkling with amber flecks even in the dim light of the cave.

He moved to the edge of the nest and crouched down. It was an egg, sand colored save for flecks of orange and gold. D'Artagnan reverently reached out to touch it, fingers brushing across a coarse, grainy surface.

His gaze drifted over his shoulder and outside to the dragon he'd killed, and he felt a new wave of guilt and remorse. He hadn't had a choice, but it wasn't the dragon's fault. He turned back to the egg and, after a moment's thought, carefully picked it up. It was the size of a large melon and a little heavy. D'Artagnan looked around the cave uncertainly for a moment before tucking the egg inside his vest as well as he could. It was awkward and bulged beneath the fabric, but hopefully it would be relatively secure, since now he had the long, arduous walk down the mountain to get to.

And hopefully he wouldn't run into any more crazed dragons along the way.

.o.0.o.

He didn't make a habit of visiting the villages that had been targets of destruction; he had no intention of drawing attention to himself, and a lone stranger cloaked in black could easily garner suspicion. But he had seen the group of three flying in and knew they had to be dragon riders sent in response to the attacks. If they caught up with the wild dragon, the battle would likely be fierce, but the King's dragons would end victorious.

Yet as he made his way along the edge of the woodland, he saw no sight of the King's men and their dragons. That seemed odd; he hadn't seen them depart.

He kept to the tree line as he surveyed the perimeter of the village. Peasants weren't milling about as one would expect, picking through the detritus of their shattered lives in an effort to start over. They were skittish, like frightened little rabbits. And they were giving the barn furtive looks and keeping their distance.

He crept closer and heard the familiar snuffling of dragons. Ah, that made sense; the poor peasants would naturally be leery of any dragon, even tamed ones.

…Oh, but wouldn't that make for the perfect escalation? Turning Musketeer dragons against their riders.

Face cracking into a devious grin, he broke cover and made his way to the barn.

.o.0.o.

Aramis woke to fire in his shoulder and chest, a pained moan slipping past dry lips without thought.

"Aramis?"

He struggled to open his eyes in response. Porthos's blurry face loomed over him, and he didn't need to see distinct features to sense the hovering worry. "Mmph," was all he managed to get out before closing his eyes again.

A hand settled on his shoulder, opposite the unrelenting fire and of a softer warmth. "You awake?"

"Yes," he murmured. Though he really rather he wasn't. He focused on taking very slow, shallow breaths to keep the pain just under the surface of unbearable.

"Hang on," Porthos rumbled and moved away.

Aramis only had a flicker of thought that it was odd for him to be left alone, but he needn't have worried; footsteps returned a few moments later.

"Monsieur Aramis," a new voice spoke, "I have some medicine for the pain."

Normally he would question the authority prescribing something and what was in it, but right now he hurt too much to trouble over it and waited, focusing on strained breaths, until the rim of a cup was placed against his lips. He sipped slowly, recognizing the bitter taste of a few familiar herbs. The man knew his tonics, then. He kept absolutely still and continued his rhythmic breathing until the pain began to recede a little more.

He heard Porthos let out a heavy sigh.

"'M still awake," he mumbled and opened his eyes again.

Porthos straightened. "You had me worried."

Based on how Aramis felt, he could imagine. He very carefully lifted his head to look down at himself, but the bulge of bandages over his chest and shoulder prevented him from seeing the damage.

"Doctor Nouwen patched you up," Porthos said. "You lost a lot o' blood though."

Aramis shifted his gaze around the room in search of said physician, but he had apparently left. He settled his head back and tried to remember what had happened to lay him this low. His eyes blew wide. "Rhaego! Where's Rhaego?"

"He's in the barn wit' Vrita and Savron," Porthos replied.

Aramis shivered as memory swept through him. Rhaego had attacked him without warning. But something was wrong…something was wrong with him. "Is- is he…?"

"I had to knock him out," Porthos admitted. "He jus' went crazy."

Aramis's heart clenched. _No_. He tried to push himself upright. "I need to see him. Something was wrong." Fire lanced through him again and he gasped.

"Yer in no shape to do anythin'," Porthos snapped, pushing him back down. Aramis was too weak from blood loss to put up much resistance.

"Something's wrong with him," he insisted, even as his vision swam and he had to close his eyes to keep from throwing up.

"We know. Athos found some strange powder near where he was sniffin' for a trail. Thinks it may be some kind of alchemical compound. He an' d'Artagnan went to consult with an alchemist in another town. So until they get back, you jus' lie there and try not to rip out all that needlework the nice doctor put in."

Aramis didn't have the breath to respond, and he was loath to just lie here as Porthos suggested when Rhaego was sick and they needed to help him. But if Athos and d'Artagnan were already looking into it, then there really wasn't anything useful Aramis could be doing at the moment.

"Doc said you need to replenish all the blood you lost," Porthos went on, tone wary as though he expected more protest. "He left some broth."

Aramis breathed out slowly and finally managed a small nod. His stomach was quivering slightly, but some broth could help settle it, especially after those herbs he'd taken. He didn't bother trying to sit up and take the drink himself but let Porthos brace his head and hold the cup to his mouth.

He tried to rest after that, but his worry for Rhaego kept him from drifting into sleep easily.

"Vrita and Savron are…guarding him?" he asked.

"Yeah." Porthos hesitated. "An' we had to tie him up."

Aramis tried to imagine how they would have subdued the crazed dragon. "Did he hurt anyone else?"

"None of the villagers," Porthos answered. "Athos and d'Artagnan tended Vrita and Savron, and Rhaego as best they could, before they left."

Aramis's chest constricted again. Their wounds should be checked…and he doubted Doctor Nouwen would be willing to take on non-human patients. He was debating trying to get up again when the door opened and Athos entered. Aramis could immediately tell something was wrong; there was a tautness to the swordsman's demeanor in how he held himself back just over the threshold, as though reluctant to come further in. Haunted eyes briefly met Aramis's, and while there was a flicker of relief, there was something else Aramis couldn't identify but suddenly felt afraid to name.

"What happened?" Porthos asked, picking up on it as well. He shifted to look over Athos's shoulder into the taproom. "Where's d'Artagnan?"

A muscle in Athos's jaw ticked. "A dragon attacked Le Blanc. We tried to fight it. It- it took him."

Aramis pushed himself up onto his elbows, ignoring the pull of his sutures. " _What_?"

"What do you mean it took 'im?"

Athos shook his head, gaze dropping to the floor. "It carried him off into the mountains. There was nothing I could do."

"We have to go after him!" Porthos exclaimed.

"We can't risk letting Savron or Vrita try to track its scent," Athos countered. "The substance we found is called dragon's bane and is used to send dragons into a crazed state."

"We can't jus' abandon him!"

Athos's mouth pinched into a grim line. "It's unlikely he's still alive."

"You're just going to give up on him?" Aramis said incredulously.

"I didn't say that," Athos snapped. "But we're stretched thin with Savron and Vrita guarding Rhaego, and this isn't just a wild dragon we're dealing with; someone intentionally triggered these attacks."

Aramis finally managed to push himself fully upright. "I'll watch Rhaego. You two go after d'Artagnan."

"Absolutely not," Porthos growled.

"This wasn't Rhaego's fault," Aramis insisted.

"I know that, but until we're sure he ain't gonna go crazy and attack you again, there's no way in hell we're leavin' you alone wit' him."

"The alchemist said the effects of the dragon's bane should wear off," Athos put in.

"How long?" Porthos asked.

"It doesn't matter," Aramis answered first. "D'Artagnan can't wait." He struggled to shift his legs over the side of the bed, keeping his arm tucked close against his stomach so as not to jostle his shoulder. His vision swam briefly and he knew he was pushing it, but as he'd said, it didn't matter. "You have to stop the dragon anyway," he pointed out through gritted teeth.

Porthos and Athos exchanged a look before wordlessly moving to help him. Porthos fished out a spare shirt to help him into since his was ripped and covered in blood. Athos took his own scarf and fashioned a makeshift sling for him.

"I still don' like this idea," Porthos grumbled as he helped Aramis toward the door.

"D'Artagnan needs you more than I do right now," he replied.

"Monsieur," Doctor Nouwen called, standing abruptly from his table in the taproom. "You should not be out of bed."

"Probably not," Aramis agreed with his usual jovial smile, or at least a grimaced attempt at one. "But duty supersedes luxury in times of need."

The physician didn't seem to know what to say to that and simply stood back in obvious displeasure as the three musketeers made their way outside.

Aramis was already feeling the strain and dizziness, but he told himself he could sit down when they reached the barn.

"Athos," Porthos suddenly said in a low voice.

"I see him."

Aramis snapped his head up and saw a cloaked figure sneaking across the road toward the barn. If they weren't aware there were dragons inside, they could find themselves facing a very angry russet beast.

"You there, stop!" Athos yelled out.

The figure jerked in surprise but then quickened his pace, sprinting the rest of the way to the barn door.

"Hey!" Porthos shouted next.

Aramis stumbled as his support moved away but managed to keep his feet as Porthos and Athos surged forward. The figure grabbed the barn door and yanked it open. He raised his other hand in a fist like he was going to throw something inside…

Athos whipped out his pistol and fired. The figure jerked and fell backward. Athos and Porthos rushed forward as Savron began to poke his head out of the barn to see what was happening.

"Stay inside!" Athos shouted at him, while Porthos barreled straight at the door and slammed it shut in the dragon's face.

Aramis lumbered across the stretch of dirt, slumping against the side of the barn when he caught up. Athos had knelt by the body and was prizing the dead man's fist open. It was full of a glittering black powder.

"Don't try to come out, Savron!" Athos yelled.

Porthos crouched down on the other side of the body and began to pat it down. The man had several pouches on his belt, and Aramis caught glimpses of various compounds in each one. Porthos reached into a pocket and pulled out a medallion bearing the seal of the Order of Alchemy.

"Guess he was makin' all his own stuff," Porthos commented.

Athos searched the pockets on his end and pulled out some coins. "Spanish gold."

"You think he was workin' fer Spain?" Porthos asked incredulously. "To do what?"

"Spread terror on French soil?" Athos postulated. "Lure the Musketeers here to target them? We'll never know for certain." He started scooping up the dragon's bane and shoving it back into one of the alchemist's pouches, then snatched a water skin off the dead man's belt to wash his hands with. "We should cover him, in case there are any traces on his clothes."

Porthos nodded and jumped up to open the barn door and slip inside. He re-emerged a moment later with a tarp that he spread over the body. "Vrita an' Savron seem okay. An' Rhaego's awake."

Aramis pushed away from the side of the barn at that and hurried inside. He pulled up short in horror when he saw Rhaego on the floor, bound so thoroughly that he couldn't move more than his neck and only a few inches. That brief moment of mindlessness that had been there before was gone, replaced with a miserable and confused look as he blinked up at Aramis.

"Oh, Rhaego," he breathed, shuffling forward and sinking to his knees next to his dragon. He placed a hand on Rhaego's head, then moved to undo the rope muzzling him, but fumbled with it one-handed.

"Savron and I will go look for d'Artagnan," Athos announced. "With the person behind this dead, there shouldn't be any more dragon attacks."

"You both should go," Aramis said.

"No," Athos rejoined and gave Porthos a meaningful look.

Aramis wanted to argue, but the effort it'd taken to get out here had triggered the pain in his shoulder and chest again and there was no way he'd be able to help Rhaego by himself.

"Good luck," he said quietly to Athos.

Athos nodded solemnly and walked out with his dragon. Aramis took a moment to close his eyes and lift a prayer heavenward that their younger brother was still alive, and that Athos would find him and bring him home.


	4. Chapter 4

The wind buffeted Athos's face as Savron soared toward the mountains. He didn't know where to even begin searching. He could do a grid by grid flyover of the entire range and still never find any sign of d'Artagnan.

Athos's heart clenched with grief. He had been the one to suggest d'Artagnan come on this mission with them. How many had the boy accompanied them on before he'd even gained his commission? He was young and brash but capable. Athos saw potential in him from the start. Why, after he'd finally become a musketeer, did it have to be so cruelly cut short?

Savron let out an abrupt trumpet call and banked suddenly. Athos stiffened in alarm, eyes sweeping the horizon for signs of the wild dragon. But there was no other winged creature in the sky with them. There was, however, a lone figure staggering out from the tree line below. Athos's breath caught in his throat.

Savron made a dive for the earth, and the figure slowed to a stop. It was d'Artagnan, clothes rumpled and drenched in sweat, his hair hanging lanky and damp down the sides of his face, but he appeared whole. Savron landed and Athos hastily unhooked his anchor line to jump from the saddle. He looked the boy over incredulously and shook his head.

"You're alive."

"You sound surprised," the young Gascon replied cheekily.

"You were carried off by a wild dragon," Athos pointed out.

"But you still came looking for me."

"Was that ever in doubt?"

D'Artagnan gave him a small smile. "No."

Athos shook his head again and moved closer to clap the boy on the back. "What happened?"

D'Artagnan's face fell. "I killed the dragon."

He drew his sword hilt from his belt, only a nub of the broken blade still attached. Athos could imagine the type of strike he would have had to make to shatter the acimite like that.

"You did well."

D'Artagnan shook his head at the praise. "I shouldn't have had to do it," he said angrily. "It wasn't the dragon's fault it was poisoned."

"You had no choice," Athos replied.

D'Artagnan didn't look appeased. He shifted his body, pulling aside the fold of his vest to reveal what was bulging underneath. Athos's brows rose in surprise. Savron inched closer to take a look.

"I couldn't leave it there," d'Artagnan said. "Not after I'd killed its mother."

Athos nodded sagely. "You had no choice," he repeated.

D'Artagnan's jaw tightened. "I still regret that it came to that."

"That's what makes you a good man."

"Do you think I can keep it?" d'Artagnan asked tentatively. "If it hatches…?"

Athos shrugged. "There is no one else's claim on it. Though raising a dragon isn't easy."

A small smile tugged at the boy's mouth. "Good thing I'm married to a dragon keeper."

Athos shook his head in amusement and sheer relief that he hadn't lost another younger brother. "Come on, we should get back. You should also know that we caught the alchemist responsible. He was killed attempting to poison Savron and Vrita."

D'Artagnan jerked sharply. "Wait, what?" He threw a concerned look at Savron.

"He failed," Athos assured him. "Everyone's fine." He climbed back onto Savron and offered d'Artagnan a hand up since he was cradling the egg protectively.

"Did you discover why he was doing it?"

"He may have been a Spanish agent, but aside from that, no. We'll likely never have the answer to why."

D'Artagnan seemed to sober at that. They clipped the anchor lines to their belts, and Savron leaped into the air, taking them back to the others.

.o.0.o.

The knots around Rhaego's muzzle were too tight for Aramis to undo one-handed, and he felt a warring sense of outrage at the others and understanding of why they'd had to do it. Porthos wordlessly wedged himself in next to Aramis and began to untie the russet dragon himself. Aramis scooted back to give them room, not feeling well enough to stand after he'd sunk to his knees. Rhaego's gaze followed Porthos as he worked his way around the multitude of ropes and chains, eyes uncertain and confused. When he was finally free, he slowly sat up, then leaned toward Aramis to sniff his wounded shoulder.

Aramis couldn't help the instinctive recoil to protect his injured side. Rhaego's expression pinched. He swung a look at Vrita, taking in her wounds, and then he crawled backward and curled into a ball, folding a wing over his face. Aramis's heart constricted.

"You remember then?" he asked sadly.

His dragon attempted to burrow more deeply under his wing. Aramis threw a helpless look at Porthos and Vrita.

"It wasn't your fault," he insisted. "I don't blame you for what happened."

Rhaego ignored him.

"Will you at least look at me?" Aramis pleaded.

Nothing.

Vrita shuffled forward and nudged the obstinate dragon. Rhaego only tried to curl in on himself more.

"Rhaego." Aramis sighed and rubbed his face with his good hand. Pain and exhaustion were taking their toll.

"We should do this later," Porthos suggested.

"No." Aramis was not leaving his dragon to wallow in self-recrimination and shame. "Rhaego, look at me," he commanded more sharply.

His dragon shifted slightly, just enough to peek out from under his wing.

"I know you would never intentionally hurt me. We were both victims of malicious scheming. But we can't let someone else's evil designs destroy us."

Rhaego drew his head out and looked back at Aramis forlornly. A whimper of apology and guilt rumbled in his throat. Aramis reached out his hand, holding it halfway to let Rhaego close the distance himself. His dragon squinted, gaze flicking to his wounded shoulder.

"I'm sorry about that," Aramis said. "I'm just sore right now. You know how when you're injured you don't want anyone prodding at the wound, even if it's gentle. I do trust you."

Rhaego waited for another moment, then cautiously extended his neck to push his nose into Aramis's outstretched hand. Aramis released a breath of tension and growing exhaustion. He really did need to get back to bed…

Rhaego cast a wary glance at Porthos.

"I'm sorry fer hittin' you so hard," Porthos said. "I hadn't wanted to."

Rhaego smacked his jaw as though remembering the blows, but he kept his head lowered in submission.

"Now will you go back ta bed?" Porthos asked, fixing Aramis with a stern glower.

Aramis's lips twitched at how easily his friend could read him. "Yes. Though I might need some help."

Porthos huffed and moved to help Aramis to his feet. The short distance back to the inn seemed much father than when he'd made his way out here.

"Do you think it's safe for them outside?" he asked. "I'd hate to keep them cooped up."

"I guess, as long as they don't go sniffin' anythin'," Porthos replied, slipping a supportive arm around Aramis's back. He cocked his head for Vrita to come with them. They gave the alchemist's body a wide berth as they passed it.

"Rhaego," Aramis called when the younger dragon didn't follow. "Come on, you'll be fine."

Rhaego poked his head out, looking reluctant. But he shuffled out, pausing to bare his fangs at the dead alchemist.

"That field over there," Porthos said, thrusting his chin toward it. "Should be fine."

Vrita chirped then, drawing their gazes toward the sky where Savron was returning. As the silverback drew closer to land, Aramis's heart soared with elation to see d'Artagnan sitting behind Athos in the saddle. Porthos let out a hearty laugh.

"Are you all right?" Aramis asked as d'Artagnan dismounted.

The boy nodded, smiling back at Aramis. "I think I should be asking you that."

"I'm fine."

Porthos snorted.

D'Artagnan smirked. He flicked a look over their shoulders. "Rhaego good?"

Aramis glanced back at his dragon keeping his distance from them. "We're all probably going to be haunted by this for a bit," he admitted. "But he's himself again. And now that you're back in one piece, I'd say it's time to go home."

"No, it's time fer you to go back to bed, remember?" Porthos growled. "Unless you want to face plant in the dirt when I let go."

Aramis wanted to argue that he'd rather go back to Paris and be in Lemay's care, but that wasn't fair to Nouwen, who had done a decent job of saving his life. And the truth was he had pushed himself too hard so soon after being injured, and the prospect of sitting a saddle in flight was somewhat daunting.

"I suppose there's still some things to take care of here," he conceded, earning an exasperated eye roll from Porthos and a fond one from Athos, who stepped in to help support his weight as they made their way back to the inn.

Rhaego let out a whine behind them.

"I'll be fine," Aramis assured him. "We could all use some rest."

Vrita circled back to nudge the younger dragon into following her toward the field. Aramis belatedly remembered he hadn't gotten the chance to see to her or Savron's wounds, but Porthos and Athos had rather unrelenting grips on him as they steered him inside.

"I hope it was worth it," Doctor Nouwen tutted as they entered. "You look like a walking corpse. And that's being generous, since you're barely walking on your own power at all."

At this point Aramis was too tired to argue, not that he had a leg to stand on against the accurate accusation. His friends helped him back to bed and Nouwen checked his wounds, commenting that he was lucky he hadn't pulled any of the needlework.

Aramis just hummed and drifted off with the knowledge that everyone was safe and well, and that was what mattered most.

.o.0.o.

The next day, after Aramis had insisted he could bear the short flight back to Paris, the musketeers arrived at the garrison. D'Artagnan had ridden with the marksman on Rhaego. He'd been surprised when Aramis had suggested it, for Rhaego usually never let anyone else on his back. But Aramis had apparently not wanted the dragon to wallow in isolation, and had admitted he couldn't ride by himself. Rhaego must have been feeling very guilty to not have put up a fuss when d'Artagnan climbed into the saddle.

Porthos came around to help Aramis dismount, then escorted the wounded musketeer to his room. Athos headed off to report to Treville, leaving d'Artagnan to unsaddle the dragons. He didn't mind. Savron and Vrita were always easy. Rhaego, however, was nearly hunched toward the ground when he got to him. D'Artagnan couldn't imagine what he must be feeling, having hurt his rider like that.

"No one blames you, you know," he said quietly.

Rhaego averted his gaze.

"It doesn't make it better," d'Artagnan sighed, thinking of the egg tucked in his bag and the dragon he'd killed whom it belonged to. "But think of all the times you saved Aramis's life. Those are what matter."

Rhaego still didn't look convinced but he at least afforded d'Artagnan a sidelong look. D'Artagnan unbuckled his saddle and pulled it off, releasing the dragon to sulk off to his den. Vrita and Savron followed, practically herding the younger dragon like mother hens. D'Artagnan couldn't help but quirk a smile at how alike to their riders they were.

He put all the tack away and, since he didn't think he was needed, headed home to see Constance. She was out in the yard doing chores when he entered the compound but stopped when she caught sight of him.

"That was fast," she commented, a relieved smile lighting up her features. "What happened? Were you able to drive the dragon out of inhabited areas?"

D'Artagnan's jaw tightened. "No. The dragon had been poisoned with something called dragon's bane that drove it mad. An alchemist was using it to set the dragon on the villages."

Constance's eyes widened in horror. "What?"

"He's dead," d'Artagnan continued, then hesitated. "But so is the dragon."

Constance's expression fell with sadness. "How horrible. Who would do such a thing?"

He shrugged; they had their theories and speculations as to who and why, but it mattered little now.

Constance was eyeing him carefully. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah. It was…it was rough. Rhaego got exposed to the dragon's bane and attacked Aramis."

Constance's eyes blew wide in alarm.

"They're both okay now," d'Artagnan rushed to assure her. "Or, well, they'll recover. They might need some time though."

"I should go check on them," Constance said, moving around him to head for the gate.

"There's something else," he said quickly and pulled the bag over his shoulder around to his front. "After I…killed the dragon, I found this." He opened the flap to reveal the egg nestled inside.

Constance let out a soft gasp.

"I figured the least I could do is make sure it got taken care of," he went on. "I mean, it will hatch, won't it?"

Constance reached out to touch the egg, running her hand over the coarse surface. "It should, if properly cared for. Come on."

She led him to one of the outbuildings designated as a nursery, though it hadn't been in use since d'Artagnan had been boarding there. There was a wood burning furnace and a stack of wood ready beside it. Constance started putting kindling in the grate to get it going.

"Put the egg in that cradle over there," she instructed, pointing to a wicker basket lined with hay a couple of feet from the stove. "We need to keep it incubating, but not too hot it ends up getting cooked."

D'Artagnan stiffened at that horrific thought.

Constance just shook her head at him. "It's fine, really."

He set the egg in the nest. "Have you ever hatched a dragon's egg?"

"No, but my father has and he's taught me about the process." She got the fire going and then made some adjustments to the furnace before coming to stand beside d'Artagnan. "I've always wanted to see it though," she said softly. "It should be amazing."

D'Artagnan cast a sly look her way. "Guess this makes us soon-to-be parents, yeah?"

She scoffed at him, but it was in amusement. "I guess it does."

D'Artagnan let himself entertain that thought. Perhaps something good had come out of the tragedy in the mountains.

He was going to have his very own dragon.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEXT TIME
> 
> The Cardinal finds out about Aramis and Adele. His retribution is vicious and deadly.


End file.
